


Underneath the Mistletoe

by SuburbanSun



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Matchmaking, Meddling, Mistletoe, Roswell Advent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: Kyle, Liz, and Isobel are tired of watching Michael and Alex dance around each other, so they decide to take matters into their own hands. Using mistletoe.Too bad it doesn't work.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 28
Kudos: 123
Collections: Roswell Advent





	Underneath the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Roswell Prompts Advent Day 18 prompt: "mistletoe"
> 
> Notes: Takes place next Christmas—you know, if everything bad and sad and awkward is totally resolved within the next year, that is.

“So yeah, as long as you’re not overdoing it and aren’t experiencing an unusual amount of discomfort, everything should be fine,” Kyle said, flipping his clipboard shut. He cocked his head to the side and pinned Alex with a look. “But you’ve also _gotta_ make an appointment with your actual doctor at the VA. You know this isn’t my specialization.” 

Alex shrugged. “Would you rather me check in with you every couple of months or drive up to Albuquerque once a year?” He pushed his pant leg down and eased himself off the exam table. 

“You do know I’m a surgeon, right?”

“That’s what happens when you decide to be a small town doctor. I’m surprised you haven’t been convinced to make house calls.” 

Kyle glowered. “Old Alice Beatty was awfully convincing when she had her gout. But that was _one time_.” 

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Alex smirked. “Don’t I get a lollipop?” 

“These are for the children,” Kyle muttered as he pulled a lemon sucker— the best flavor— out of his lab coat pocket and begrudgingly shoved it into Alex’s hand. “What’ve you got going on the rest of the day?”

“Michael’s meeting me here, and we’re going to tag-team some of the files I hacked into earlier this week.” 

Kyle narrowed his eyes, then set the clipboard down on the countertop and gestured toward the door. “Man, I’m exhausted. You want some coffee before you head out? My treat.”

Alex looked at him suspiciously. “I guess I’m a little tired, sure.”

“Great.” Kyle put a hand on Alex’s shoulder and led him out of the exam room, forcefully turning them in the direction of the hospital cafeteria. “Text Guerin and have him meet you there. He could probably use some coffee, too.”

“Um. Okay.”

Minutes later, Kyle, Alex, and Michael were seated awkwardly around a cafeteria table, sipping bland coffee out of styrofoam cups. 

“Don’t you have a dog to save, or something, Valenti?” Michael asked, after slurping down a sip of the coffee he hadn’t paid for.

“I’m not a _vet,_ Guerin. I’m a human doctor.” 

Michael only shrugged, his eyes wide and innocent, and Kyle gritted his teeth. The things he’d do for his best friend. With an elaborate sigh, he glanced down at his watch, then back up at the two men across from him. “Looks like I’ve got to get going. Got a procedure in 20.” He stood up and tossed his cup into a nearby trash can. “But look, enjoy the coffee. And hey— keep your heads up.” 

He tried to keep the smug grin off his face until he was at least halfway across the cafeteria, but he couldn’t help but look back as he passed the coffee station. From across the space, he could see that Alex and Michael had finally noticed the sprig of mistletoe hanging over their table (that hung over most of the tables lining the wall of the cafeteria, in fact— an inexplicable choice by the hospital operations staff, but one that Kyle thought might finally work in his favor). He slunk behind one of the cashiers, sparing Muriel his handsomest smile and wink, and watched the two of them in profile. 

He saw Alex’s brow furrow, and watched as Michael’s gaze remained on the small plant hanging over their heads for a beat too long. Kyle stood there as their eyes met, and he almost held his breath— almost but not quite; he wasn’t _that_ invested, he told himself— as they moved infinitesimally closer together.

But then Alex cleared his throat, and stood up fast.

Michael rose to his feet, too, crumpling his styrofoam cup and chucking it into the trash can. 

They trailed out of the cafeteria, and Kyle felt deflated, like he’d just had to give someone an awful prognosis, or something. He frowned, then slipped his phone out of the pocket of his coat that wasn’t filled with candy and tapped out a message to Liz. 

_Didn’t work. You’re up._

He really did have a procedure in 20 minutes. Hopefully Mrs. Kendrickson’s appendectomy would have a better end result.

Liz was ready, later that afternoon, when the door to the Crashdown jingled. She waggled her fingers at Michael and Alex as they headed for their usual booth— and wasn’t it odd, to realize that the pair of them even had a usual booth? 

She slipped into the kitchen and took a pair of pliers to the aerator at the mouth of the sink’s faucet. Water sprayed all down the front of her uniform, and she yelped at the chilly temperature, leaping back and tossing the pliers into a nearby plastic storage bin.

She made for the dining room, swiping water droplets off her apron, and gave Michael her best puppy dog eyes. “Hey Mikey?” 

He tilted his head and looked at her from under his eyelashes, folding his menu in front of him. “What’s up, Ortecho?”

“Looks like our sink is busted again. Think you could take a look?” She grinned hopefully. “Queso fries are on the house!”

Michael heaved a sigh, but he was already sliding out of the booth and heading for the kitchen. “Extra queso.”

Liz put a hand on one hip. “Who do you think I am? Of course.” Then her attention went to Alex, who was still sitting in the booth watching their conversation play out, and that just wouldn’t do. “Alex, maybe you could give him a hand? I would, but I’m swamped right now.” 

Alex looked around the restaurant, to the left, and to the right, surveying the many empty tables. To his credit, though, sweet Alex, he didn’t say a word, just set his menu down and followed Michael toward the kitchen. 

“It’s just through there,” Liz said unnecessarily, as Michael and Alex approached the door that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Michael glanced at her, but headed in, Alex behind him.

Liz leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms over her still-damp uniform, watching them as best she could through the window cut into the kitchen door. She saw Michael wrestle with the sink for long enough to get it to stop spraying water everywhere. She saw him turn back to face Alex, his thin, cream-colored sweater plastered to his chest from getting so close to the spray. He saw the exact moment when Michael noticed the mistletoe hanging from the kitchen ceiling, and saw Alex follow his gaze upward. 

She couldn’t hear them, and she’d never learned to read lips, though right now she thought it would be a handy skill to have. A few moments later, when they emerged from the kitchen and took their seats at their regular booth, Liz wasn’t quite sure if the frustration she felt was coming from Michael or from Alex or from her. 

They ordered extra queso fries, and Liz couldn't even blame them.

Isobel blinked down at the phone in her hand. 

_No luck at the Crashdown. Please help!!_ Liz had texted, with an absolutely _desperate_ pair of exclamation marks. Isobel had agreed with Kyle and Liz at the brunch she’d reluctantly attended the other morning— the way Michael and Alex were dancing around each other was verging on ridiculous. But was the situation _really_ that dire?

If it was, she supposed, then she was the appropriate last resort. She’d decked the halls of her new townhome in gold, garland, and glitter— mistletoe would fit right in.

She dashed off a text to Michael, inviting him, and by extension Alex, to dinner, and mounted a low step stool to dangle a sprig of the stuff from the ceiling just above the sofa, where she knew they’d wind up sitting later that night.

Around 5:30, she was stirring basil into a tomato sauce on the stove— that’s right, the new, single Isobel could _cook_ — when she heard the front door open.

“Hey, Iz,” Michael’s voice floated in from the foyer. “It’s just us.” 

“Us?” she called out in question, rolling her eyes. If he was going to be willfully obtuse about his relationship with Alex, then she was, too. 

“Me ‘n Alex,” he said, popping his head around the corner of the kitchen with a look on his face that said, ‘duh.’ “Need any help?”

“No, I don’t think any of us want your lack of skills in the kitchen,” she answered, and he stuck his tongue out in response. “Send your better half in here, though.” Michael huffed awkwardly, which Isobel considered a win, but he did wave Alex into the kitchen before disappearing into the living room.

“Reporting for duty,” Alex said, washing his hands at Isobel’s brushed chrome sink. 

She appraised him, thought about slipping into the mindscape with him. She hadn’t done that since the first time they’d had a substantial conversation since high school, back when she’d found it impossible to trust any man, and so had he. They’d reached a detente that night, when she’d discovered she actually really _liked_ Alex. She liked his hard edges. He’d helped her cultivate her own.

“Drain the pasta,” she ordered, and he did, pouring it from the big pot on the stove into a stainless steel colander he’d swiped from the rack over the sink. “How was your day?”

He barked a laugh. “Since when does Isobel Evans make pleasantries?” 

“Whatever, Manes. I’m damn pleasant.”

Alex raised his eyebrows as he added the drained penne back into the pot. “Ask me what you want to ask, Isobel.”

She busied herself with pouring the pasta sauce over the pot full of steaming penne, stirring it in with her favorite wooden spoon. (Dimly, she wondered when she’d become a person who had a favorite wooden spoon? She didn’t hate it.) 

“What are your intentions with my brother?” She said it into the pasta, and she knew if she looked up at him, she could laugh it off like a joke, the kind of question they could have a good chuckle over, the kind of question that nobody had ever really asked about _Michael_ , that nobody really would.

She looked up, and Alex wasn’t laughing.

“I intend to do what I can to make him feel at home in this world.” He puffed out long exhale, his gaze unfocused. “And I can only hope that’s enough.” After a long, long moment, he met her eyes again, all wistfulness and hope, and she could only nod.

“Give me that salt,” she said, gesturing at the shaker next to him on the counter. “Set the table.” He passed her the salt shaker and opened one of her cabinets in search of bowls for their dinner, getting it right on the first try.

Dinner passed relatively uneventfully. Isobel and Alex ganged up on Michael more than a few times, which Isobel thoroughly enjoyed. She finished her pasta, and even went back for a small second serving.

“You two head into the living room,” she said after their bowls were soaking in the sink. “I’m sure I can scrounge up some kind of dessert.”

Alex raised an eyebrow on his way out of the kitchen. “Red wine doesn’t count, you know.”

She glared at him. “It does if it’s _port_.” When he’d disappeared into the living room, she admitted to herself that she didn’t have port wine, and probably didn’t have any cookies or sweets, either. She busied herself with looking anyway, then poked her head around the corner.

Alex had settled on the sofa, right under the sprig of mistletoe she’d hung earlier that day, but Michael was sitting in the armchair across the room. Across the room! What good did that do any of them?

“Let’s watch a movie,” Isobel said, making her way toward Michael. She checked his shoulder with her hip, glaring down at him. “This is my favorite chair.” 

“What happened to dessert?” he asked, his hands palms-up in a clear question that she ignored. 

“Go pick something out for us to watch. _Go_.” 

Michael’s eyes widened. “Alright, already.” He heaved himself out of the armchair and fell back onto the sofa next to Alex, picking up the remote and switching the TV to Netflix. “You want something Christmassy?”

Isobel shrugged, sitting deeper in the armchair Michael had vacated. “Whatever you want.” She eyed them. They weren’t exactly making a point to sit as far from each other possible, but they also weren’t snuggling up in the middle of the couch. And neither of them had paid any attention to the mistletoe hanging over their heads. 

She cleared her throat, glancing up at the ceiling. Michael just kept scrolling through documentaries. She cleared it again.

“You okay, Iz?”

She glared. “I’m _fine_.” She almost thought she caught the barest of winks from Alex, but she couldn’t be sure. 

Two hours later, when they shuffled out her front door after finishing a Netflix original Christmas movie they’d all three pretended not to like, Isobel sank back into the armchair and pulled out her phone.

_Count me out on any future matchmaking plans with the two of you_ , she texted to the group thread with Liz and Kyle. _They’re a hopeless case._

“You sure you’re not good to drive?” Michael asked as they climbed the steps of his Airstream. “You had, like, a glass and a half of wine at Isobel’s. And that was with dinner.” 

“Do you want me to go?”

Michael spun around, effectively stopping Alex from stepping further inside, his brows knitted together. He puffed out a breath. “I don’t want you to stay just because you have to.”

Alex blinked up at him, swallowed. “I want to.”

There was a beat, and then Michael gave a terse nod, turning and heading further into the trailer. Alex trailed after him, watching as Michael flicked a switch on the side of the coffeemaker and pulled down two mugs. 

“Christmas is in a couple days,” Alex said, taking a few more steps into the belly of the Airstream to perch on the edge of the bed. “Got any big plans?”

Michael chuckled. “Ask Isobel. You saw her place. She’s gone a little cuckoo with the Christmas stuff this year.” 

Alex grimaced. “Yeah. She— it seems like the whole town has, really. The Crashdown. The hospital.” 

The coffee machine gurgled, and Michael sighed. “You notice that too?” He let out an awkward laugh. “I thought I was the only one.” He poured them each a mug of coffee, then held out Alex’s to him before leaning back against the countertop. Alex blew on it, then took a sip. 

“So you did see the— the mistletoe, then?” Alex asked, clutching his mug in front of him with both hands like armor. “I wasn’t sure. Because you didn’t—”

Michael huffed out a sigh like it was punched out of him, then raked the hand that wasn’t holding his coffee mug through his curls. “Yeah, maybe I don’t want you to kiss me because our friends are trying to meddle in our lives.” He set the mug beside him and gazed down at Alex. “Maybe I want you to kiss me because it’s what you want.”

Alex froze, waited one beat, two beats. Then he pushed himself to standing, setting his coffee mug on the floor by the bed and stepping closer to Michael, until they were almost chest to chest. “Do you have any mistletoe?” He could feel Michael’s breath on his face as he waited for him to respond. 

“No.”

“Any plants at all?” He pushed in just a little bit closer, resting one hand on the countertop beside Michael’s, sparing a glance at how tight he was gripping the chipped laminate. 

Michael smirked. “Don’t have much of a green thumb.” 

“Then this is just because it’s what I want,” Alex said, and he was so close to Michael that his lips could faintly trace the jut of his jaw, the soft curve of his mouth. “What do you want?” he whispered, and Michael dove in, claiming his lips with his own, one hand in his hair and the other gripping his hip. 

When they fell back into bed, cooling coffee long forgotten, it had nothing to do with their friends’ impatience, or a holiday superstition. 

Somehow, Isobel managed to take credit for it, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hang out on tumblr? I'm [unbreakablejemmasimmons](https://unbreakablejemmasimmons.tumblr.com/) over there!


End file.
